Indigo and Lilac Wine
by Juni Onigiri
Summary: Monoma Neito, a pastry chef renowned for his talent and trash mouth, is objectively having a bad morning in the form of a hangover, a part-timer on the brink of death on his cafe's floor, and lots of blood, mostly his own. But meeting the unjustly attractive Dr. Shinsou Hitoshi from Hosu Gen's emergency services marks the start of something beautiful. (monoshin civilians au!)
1. Extra Service

**Indigo and Lilac Wine  
**Chapter 1: Extra Service

_AN: Hi, if you're new to the series, welcome! This is the start of the Monoshin part of the civilians AU. I've published one story of Chef Monoma and Dr. Shinsou before for rarepair month, you can read it here if you want (Chapter 14!). So this multichapter fic will show how they met, and maybe show us some of the things going on in the background too!_

_You don't need to read the first two stories to understand this. But if you've read them before, you kinda know that some significant stuff will happen in the end. So, yeah, let's get the show started!_

* * *

Six AM on a bland Monday morning. The sun is shining hot and bright, bathing everything in golden light. The sounds of the birds chirping are overwhelmed by the rush of traffic, steadily congesting as the minutes tick by. Various smells pollute the air: smoke and coffee and waste, competing for critically acclaimed_ patissier _Monoma Neito's refined senses.

He trudges his way to the Boulangerie, trying not to look as if he spent his Sunday drinking too much wine and sobbing over his French Netflix shows until he passed out on his living room floor, with his loungewear in disarray and his belly exposed to the cold.

The ache in his head tells the true story, however, and he finds himself cringing as he hears the high-pitched tingling of the door chime and the blast of cold air when he enters his establishment.

"_ Bonjour, maman! _" a sprout of brown hair wearing a chef's hat greets from behind the counter.

"_ Bonjour, _Komori." He tries to be his usual affluent and elegant self, but his voice comes out as an awful croak.

Komori Kinoko, his assistant pastry chef, emerges from the back to place freshly baked baguettes on display. "You look exhausted. You musht have had a lot of fun-gus this weekend, huh?"

"Ugh. Must you ask me if I had fungus over the weekend every Monday morning?" It was cute at first, but now it's getting old and he doesn't want to answer the question on the unfortunate occasion that he _does _get fungus over the weekend.

Komori grins at him without remorse. "You know I have to, Chef. I musht make sure that you aren't too hungover from your mainstream French shows and awful wine to work."

He scowls at Komori's unsurprising accuracy. She'd been working with him for the past five years, after all. "Excuse you. My tastes are high-class. Exquisite. Nothing that a plebe like you could ever hope to attain."

"Of course. Because pink mush-cato and Miraculous Ladybug are Festival de Cannes material," she sneers, showing off sharp teeth that makes her look like a gremlin rather than a baker. She's certainly acting like one.

In any case, it's too early in the morning and the week to be disrespected in laser-like precision like this. He rolls his eyes. "More importantly, is it just you this morning? Where's Tsuburaba?"

The small girl shrugs. "I a-shroomed that he called you? I don't know where he musht have gone, either."

The chef scowls. "He didn't tell me anything. That boy better get here before opening-"

"I'm here! I'm here… sorry I'm-urp-late…"

The door chimes behind them followed by the heavy sound of trudging. Monoma and Komori simultaneously look at him, the former with his mouth open and ready to scold.

That is, until they take note of the greenish hue of Tsuburaba's face, the beads of sweat decorating his forehead, and the way he's clutching his belly like it's about to spill over.

Monoma wrinkles his nose at the sight as he cautiously approaches him. His usually reliable other assistant pastry chef reeks of throw-up and looks like he's about to collapse. "… what happened to you? Komori, did you poison him by accident again?"

"Of course not! Don't just a-shroom I did!" Komori counters. _It was just that one time, _she mutters under her breath.

"I'm okay boss," Tsuburaba struggles. He pushes down a small gagging noise and turns greener. "I think…? It's just a stomach ache. I guess I drank too much last night with Rin and Kaibara…"

"Very irresponsible, Tsuburaba! What are you doing, drinking like a fish when you have work the next morning?" Monoma admonishes with a humph, even as Komori looks at him as if he were a dirty, dirty hypocrite. Which he isn't, by the way. He may spend some nights drinking just a teeny tiny little bit over the point of inebriation, but at least he knows not to get to the point of being as discolored as Tsuburaba is right now.

Still, there's something alarming way about the way his other employee is clutching the lower half of his stomach. His face is also getting progressively paler with each step he takes. Something at the back of his head suddenly tells him to take this seriously. "I don't think this is just a hangover. I think I should take you to the hospital."

"Nah, nah, nah... I'm good, okay?" Tsuburaba obviously isn't, the stubborn fool, but he tries standing up and hobbling to where his trusty apron hangs on a hook. "It'll pass. I had a Yakult and lots of water, and…"

A spasm of pain hits him, and he crumples to the floor with a dramatic yelp.

Monoma rushes over to his side, preparing himself to drag him out of the premises. "Komori, I think you need to get your car ready. Now, please."

"N… no, not the hospital," whines Tsuburaba. Komori makes an affirmative sound and runs out of the restaurant as fast as her little feet can take her. "W… what if they keep me there? I don't want to be admitted, boss… _hrrk- _"

"_ Mon dieu," _Monoma mumbles under his breath. "I'm sure this isn't from drinking Rin's Chinese snake wine or whatever. We need to get you to a doctor."

"B-but," Tsuburaba stammers through shallow breaths. He's losing control of his quirk, and small circles of solid air form from his mouth and break out into shards around them. Monoma pushes him delicately until he's lying on his side and visibly gains some semblance of comfort holding onto the side of his stomach.

Thankfully it isn't long before Komori honks her little mushroom beetle car outside. Monoma summons all his strength reserves dragging Tsuburaba out of the Boulangerie. He makes sure that he flips the signage _Closed _before the trio rushes through traffic going towards the Hosu General Hospital emergency room.

* * *

He supposes that they're lucky the ER isn't that busy, or so the red-headed ER nurse claims, as Tsuburaba is lifted from a wheelchair and onto his own hospital bed. They only had to pass by three children crying, a sidekick with a stab wound, and exactly one person coding at the other side of the ER to deposit the pale Tsuburaba on his own, secure stretcher.

Needless to say, this does nothing to calm Tsuburaba's nerves, or soothe Monoma's headache.

After asking Monoma to fill out Tsuburaba's information sheet, the nurse named Kirishima looks over Tsuburaba and gives a shark-toothed smile that strangely reminds him of Tetsutetsu. "Dr. Shinsou will be here any minute. For the meantime, I gotta put an IV line through you, okay, Tsuburaba-san?"

Tsuburaba whimpers. "I hate needles…"

"It'll be okay. You just need to relax. It'll feel like nothing, promise."

Wide-eyed despite his pain, Tsuburaba flails as violently as his weakened state allows. "Um wait… I need to hold on to something-Komori, hold me-"

"Eh? But I don't want to," the petite girl says with worry. "You know I shroom out when I'm nervous! I don't want to accidentally grow _Amanita phalloides _on you! Again!"

"Aw, come on! You won't, and I really-_ huff- _-hate needles!" Tsuburaba starts to hyperventilate again, and no amount of Kirishima saying comforting words gets him to calm down. Luckily his breathing is so shallow that the air doesn't solidify anymore.

Monoma puts down the clipboard with a roll of his eyes. "Honestly. You two are infants," he mutters, holding onto Tsuburaba's right hand.

"_ Nous t'aimons maman _!" the relieved Komori chirps with her heavy accent. This makes Monoma internally cringe a little, but at least she sounds like she's been working on it. Kirishima looks at this exchange with amusement.

Tsuburaba sniffles in gratitude and squeezes Monoma's hand to the point of breaking, and even harder than that when Kirishima starts cleaning his skin with disinfectant and turn his hand this way and that, looking for a vein. For a patient who looks like he's on the verge of dying, he sure is being dramatic and noisy about it. Kirishima impressively doesn't look distracted at all when he takes out the needle and lines this up against his vein-

"Excuse us, ribbit," the curtain opens, around the same time red blooms from the puncture point in Tsuburaba's skin.

They simultaneously look up at the newcomers. The one who opened the curtain is a small woman with long, green hair, dressed in bright green scrubs with black piping. Apparently she's from the General Surgery team. She has big round eyes and a tongue sticking out of her mouth. Oddly enough this doesn't make her look unreliable-at least, not like the second doctor who follows her in and catches Monoma's eye for the wrong reasons.

The second one, in a single kind word, is _disheveled. _He's easily the tallest in the room, with wild purple hair going in all directions. Equally purple eyes underlined by dark circles that may or may not be perpetually there survey all the people in the room in an irritatingly _bored _manner. The lower half of his face is covered by a facemask, but Monoma can easily imagine the impassive line of his mouth underneath it.

Are doctors allowed to look like this? Monoma is about to demand another doctor to see his employee, but is interrupted when the unimpressive doctor starts to speak.

"All right. Tsuburaba Kosei-san," the purple doctor drawls, flipping through a chart. "I'm Shinsou, ER physician. This is Asui from Surgery. Heard about your case and called her in to check on you too, just in case. How're you feeling?"

A pinprick of hot emotion stabs Monoma in the gut when he hears the unexpectedly deep voice.

"Kinda better," Tsuburaba slurs unconvincingly as Kirishima pushes a vial of something through his line that calms him down. "But my stomach still hurts."

"Mhm. And all of this happened this morning?"

He feels a little dazed as the doctor wordlessly asks him to let go of Tsuburaba's hand so he could quickly examine Tsuburaba with quick, practiced movements. The blonde finds himself staring too long at the way his bare arms look when he moves, the way his shoulders flex, how tall and broad he is, the little hums he makes when he takes note of something in the examination.

What the hell, what business does a scruffy-looking ER doctor have looking and sounding like that?

"Yeah, when I woke up..." Tsuburaba proceeds to answer a few more questions about his colorful evening drinking Chinese spirits and his less-than-colorful morning throwing everything up.

"Ribbit. I hope you don't mind, I have to check your stomach ," says Dr. Asui. She positions the suddenly pink-faced Tsuburaba with surprisingly strong, large hands and begins pressing on his stomach gently. "Does it hurt when I press-"

"N-no… ahhhhhhAAAHHHHHH"

She croaks in understanding and turns to Dr. Shinsou who nods at her knowingly. "Okay. I don't mean to alarm all of you, _ribbit, _but this might be appendicitis."

Komori gasps. "Appendicitis?! Does that mean he's dying?!"

Dr. Asui blinks her big eyes. Nothing on her blank stare affirms or denies Tsuburaba's status, and everyone becomes unnerved. "He's stable right now. We'll need to do a few more tests, but most likely he'll need emergency surgery to get better."

"What? S-surgery?" All traces of pink exits Tsuburaba's face, to be replaced by an alarming shade of green not far from Dr. Asui's hair. "I can't get surgery! I mean, I have work at the cafe, and a shift with Reiko-chan, and _hggk _-"

Komori jumps about a foot away as bile and semi-solid chunks of air comes out of Tsuburaba's mouth. Thankfully Kirishima is there with a basin and another vial of medication for it.

"_ Ribbit… _you definitely can't work in this condition," Asui tells him blankly. "Besides, if it's really appendicitis and we don't operate, you could actually die."

Tsuburaba looks like he wants to blabber or panic again or something, but he ends up throwing up instead. Komori looks up at Monoma on the verge of tears. "_ Maman, _what do we do? Tsuburaba will _die! _He'll become mushroom food!"

Monoma huffs. "Don't be so dramatic. We'll just have to let them do the tests and agree to surgery if it comes to that." He turns to the frog-like doctor and nods his head. "Please do what you need to do."

"Ribbit. Understood." Dr Asui signals to the nurse. Before they know it, Kirishima stands up and wheels Tsuburaba out of the ER. Asui speedwalks next to the bed, with Komori doing her best to catch up with her little legs. Monoma is just about to follow when he feels a tug on his sleeve, stopping him in his tracks.

Dr. Shinsou stares at him, hand not leaving his arm. "Stay here. Let them handle it."

That strong hand, that baritone, those tired, remarkable indigo eyes. The clinical white lights around them seem to shimmer in a rosy hue around his Einstein hairdo. Monoma actually feels the time stop upon that first contact, feels the space between each heartbeat that either stretches out or shrinks with the change of its tempo. Before he knows it he's lost in his eyes and his empty thoughts and the churn of weird, weird feelings in his tummy that he refuses to name.

Wait, cut the dramatics, Monoma Neito! This isn't one of your French dramas! It's the worst morning for this sort of thing, for all you know Tsuburaba's guts have already exploded and here you are trapped in a shoujo manga sequence!

More importantly, _why. Why this guy. _At least pick someone who knows how to fix his hair!

"W-what are you talking about? I have to be there for-" he finally stammers, forcing the rosy hue away from his mind's eye.

Shinsou points to his left hand. "Not like that you aren't. You're bleeding all over the place."

Monoma looks down and finally sees the mess of his left hand. A variety of ugly cuts and gashes mar his pale skin, the largest one among them actively oozing blood and making a small pool on the floor.

The sight of it makes Monoma's head spin. "I'm-bleeding?"

"Yeah." Somehow Shinsou gets him to sit down on a chair, where he quickly takes his pulse and blood pressure. When the nausea subsides and he's sure he's okay, the doctor asks, "Any idea how you got those cuts? You didn't get into a knife fight or anything like that, did you?"

Monoma shakes his head. "Earlier in the cafe, when Tsuburaba-kun went in. I think I got cut when he started hyperventilating, and the air around him broke-"

"Mm. He has a solid air quirk, right? Those shards must have been nasty." Shinsou takes his hand within his large gloved ones to examine the cuts. Monoma knows that he should really be worried about all the blood and his hand being mangled and all that, but his stupid brain can't stop thinking about how manly they look against his own, which look small and dainty in contrast.

"Right. Most of them are okay, just need disinfecting. But this one needs a few stitches." He carefully points to the largest of them. "I gotta get you to the minor surgeries area to work on this. That okay, Mr…?"

"Monoma. Monoma Neito."

Shinsou blinks. "Oh. Like Monoma's a few blocks away? Across Satou's? You're _that _Monoma?"

"If you mean the owner of the shop, then yes, I'm _that _Monoma. _Chef _Monoma, if you want to address me properly." The blonde knows that his reputation for consistently baiting-no, _challenging _his rival, Satou Rikido from Musutafu Culinary School's Class A-precedes him. He's never felt an ounce of regret for doing so because apart from the importance of proving his superiority, it also brings in curious customers for both places.

But now he wonders if Shinsou knows about that part of his business. The part where he screams and laughs across the street waving baguettes like they're a deadly weapon until Satou offers him peace and cake. Is this a good time to feel embarrassed over his antics?

"That's nice, chef. You make great coffee," Shinsou tells him easily as he leads the way to a different part of the ER.

Monoma is honestly taken aback by this, which doesn't make sense because he really does make the best coffee in Tokyo. It's only natural that this person who looks like a caffeine addict would say so.

"I usually get the _café serré _, but on good days I spoil myself by ordering _une noisette _." It's soon apparent that Shinsou talks coffee to him to distract him from the set of things he prepares-gauze, curved needles, metal tools with scissor handles, syringes and the like. Not that it helps, because the perfect way that he pronounces the French coffees do very little to stop the twist and tumble of Monoma's insides.

"You don't say?" Monoma pales and tries to focus his eyes and ears anywhere else. "We have other coffees that aren't designed to jolt your brain into a different dimension."

Shinsou shrugs. "What can I say? I need that to stay conscious on most days." He nonchalantly sits across him. "You afraid of sharps?"

Involuntarily, he swallows as a syringe is positioned over the ugly gash on his hand. "No, not at all."

The doctor blinks at him glumly. "You sure about that? You're lookin' a little pale there."

He feels the tickle of nausea at the back of his throat, but stubbornly refuses to acknowledge it. "I can handle it."

Shinsou sighs and places the needle down. "You don't have to suffer through this, you know. I can help you with my quirk."

Monoma raises his eyebrows at that. "Oh? Are doctors allowed to use quirks now? I thought that was illegal."

"Some of us have provisional licenses to use our quirks under select circumstances," the purple-haired doctor answers blankly, as if he'd had to deal with the same snark and skepticism every shift. He shows the license hanging on his lanyard, which does show that he's allowed to use his quirk within the premises of the hospital.

(Also, that this doctor's given name is Hitoshi, and it _really _suits him and before he can stop himself Monoma has already filed that little tidbit of interesting information into his head.)

"Brainwash," Monoma reads, narrowing his eyes. "How are you going to do it? Are you going to say, _look into my eyes, you are falling very sleepy? _"

"Doesn't work like that."

"So how?"

Shinsou blinks again. "I need your consent first, Monoma-san."

_Monoma-san. _Ugh, how awful it is to have his ears assaulted by that sinful voice! "All right, you have it, just get it over-"

Monoma blinks once. In the space between, he finds his hand suddenly clean and covered in gauze, heavy and numb with anesthetic. Shinsou has already set aside the sharp tools and is scrawling a prescription in illegible handwriting nearby.

"What-"

"Welcome back."

Monoma means to glare at him for the time lost, he really does, but he suddenly realizes that Dr. Shinsou Hitoshi's mask is _off _and he finally gets a good look at his face and Monoma wonders how a face with that amused smirk and those kinda eyebags can look so devilishly attractive.

His brain stutters. Shinsou uses that opportunity to hand him the prescription, telling him about how he's supposed to drink his antibiotics and painkillers that Monoma really should have paid attention to instead of how his mouth moves.

"So… that's that," he drawls, picking out his phone. "By the way, Asui tells me that your boyfriend really has appendicitis and needs to get to surgery ASAP."

Monoma stares at him dumbly. "Excuse me. My what?"

Shinsou pauses. "Um… Tsuburaba-san," he says in confusion. "Did I assume wrong? You were holding his hand earlier, so…"

"Oh! No, no, that's just," Monoma laughs, enjoying the way regret and embarrassment flashes on the other man's face, who knew this guy could look this flustered? "He works for me. And he would have had a nervous breakdown if no-one stepped up to hold his hand while your nurse was holding a needle, so…"

"Right. Sorry for assuming. I shouldn't have said that," Shinsou says, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously out of habit. It's a nothing sort of thing to do, but again Monoma catches himself staring at that strong arm, that big hand, that _really handsome face _and he loses himself again.

Pushing down all the flustered feelings aside, Monoma manages to say, "It's fine, Dr. Shinsou. Where should I go from here?"

Shinsou walks him to a hallway and utters directions. "If you go to the waiting room, I'm sure you'll meet your other friend there. They'll tell you when he's ready for surgery."

Monoma nods. "Got it," he says, pausing awkwardly.

Shinsou stares at him, eyebrows raised in curiosity when he just… stands there.

There's an urge inside him to say something, anything to make himself memorable. Because for one reason or another he's disappointed that his bloody, less-than-dramatic encounter with Dr. Shinsou has already come to an end. But at the same time, what the hell Monoma, they're opening up Tsuburaba any moment now and Shinsou's an ER doctor who needs to work, _why _are you so hell bent on impressing this sleepy doctor?

Finally he waves his heavy, gauze-covered hand to him. "Come by the cafe anytime you're off-duty. You're entitled to exactly one coffee, on the house."

Now that's not too bad, he thinks to himself proudly. It's not too grand a gesture, and it's easily something that Shinsou would appreciate. The guy looks like he's got coffee instead of blood running through his veins, after all.

Dr. Shinsou hums, and the uneasy way his mouth twists makes something in Monoma's stomach drop. "_ If _I get off-duty. That's a big if, though. But thanks, Chef. I'll-"

Someone calls for Dr. Shinsou urgently behind him, and with a hurried flash of his teeth that could be an apologetic grin, he disappears into the fray of the ER.

Monoma stands there in silence. _Was I… rejected just now? _

Stupid. Even though he was masking it in a show of gratitude, was his interest in him too obvious? Really, trying to get with a _doctor, _who was on _duty, _who was only interested in stitching him up and nothing else, because he was a _patient. _Neito, what were you thinking?

In the privacy of the empty halls, he slaps his cheeks free of all the useless ruminations and rushes to the waiting room.

* * *

Two weeks later, everything is back to normal. More or less.

Tsuburaba's surgery is a success, although he had to stay a few extra days to finish his medications. Not that he minded, because the boy ends up catching an illness admittedly worse than appendicitis-an acute and hopeless case of infatuation for his surgeon.

Monoma has had to give him until the following week to recover, but apart from the extra work load on Komori, Rin (the other part-timer) and himself, it isn't that bad. At least he isn't consistently exposed to the lovesick boy and his cyclic blatherings about being head-over-heels in-love with the talented and cute-as-hell Dr. Asui Tsuyu, who saved "his body and his heart". (Unlike Kaibara Sen, his unfortunate roommate who looks about ready to drill holes into his skull just so he could stop listening to that.)

As for him, Monoma's doing great, just great. He kept his would clean, took his antibiotics like a champ, avoided overworking his hand and such. The gash leaves a visible scar that will last but at least isn't as horrible looking as it looked when it was fresh.

He had the stitches removed, too. Just walked in the ER and had the doctor on duty snip 'em off, and it didn't even hurt. It's a different experience from before because he didn't need to be brainwashed this time. And also it isn't a purple-haired sleep-deprived doctor who did it, but a different doctor, a less disheveled one with vines growing on her head. And it's great, just great that he's in and out of the ER in like ten minutes with no extra trouble at all.

(He knows Dr. Shiozaki well. She is a frequent customer in the Boulangerie who usually orders flat bread with absolutely nothing on it and insists on Komori or Tsuburaba saying grace with her before she takes her first bite. She's a good doctor and and he really shouldn't complain about it.)

(Still, he had to tell himself to not feel disappointed leaving the ER still carrying the black-as-night coffee he brought with him. He had to make up some excuse for Rin to drink it cold, so it doesn't go to waste.)

So anyway. Monoma is fine, totally fine, totally productive with no time to waste thinking of exhausted, indigo-haired doctors whom he doesn't think about constantly _at all _. He bakes all day and watches his shows at night. Twice he went to Satou's to exchange rude words with his plucky invisible waitress until the musclehead sends him off with a cake that he finishes, even though it's not that good, just that it's really bad to waste food okay, lots of poor people starving and all that. He had another meeting with his investor Tsunotori Pony too; they're well on their way opening up a second cafe in Yokohama.

Also, because Tsuburaba is absent, he's had to do a lot of the menial tasks by himself. Like waiting on tables, cleaning up, and deliveries to a certain hospital a few blocks away.

"You again, Monoma?"

The impolite greeting comes from a tired Kendo Itsuka, the in-house neurologist of the hospital and one of the few usual customers who stragely made an effort to make friends with him. (He reckons that she did so so she has rights to knock him out with a blow to the back of the head when he goes too far, which is more often than he'd care to admit.) While usually bright and bubbly, her visage right now is less bright and more lifeless, an obvious result of a tiring tour of duty.

She meets him at the lobby of Hosu Gen to pick up her usual order: a croque madame and black coffee, no sugars whatsoever. The total opposite of her personality.

Monoma pouts. "What's with that face? Am I so dazzling that it's exhausting to look at me?"

The redhead rolls her eyes. "Spare me, I've been awake for the past twenty hours and my brain's just about to shut down." She takes a sip of the coffee without flinching and sighs gratefully. "You usually get Tsuburaba or Rin to do this. Is it so busy without Tsuburaba that you have to do this on your own? It's surprising to see you in this god-awful depressing place three times in a row."

"Is that any way to talk about your workplace, Dr. Kendo?" Monoma says with a huff. "I thought you were proud to be of service for the needy and all that."

"I'm quoting you _directly _."

"When have I ever?"

Kendo looks at him in that usual _done _way of hers. "Always? I hear you say it at least once every time Tetsu and I go to your place. You said it yesterday when you did the delivery."

He shrugs. "I'm allowed to call it that since I don't work here. Besides, when I come here for any other reason, it's usually the god-awful and depressing ones. I mean, I almost bled to death while Tsuburaba's guts almost exploded!"

Kendo sighs. The sips of coffee she takes is slowly giving her life again, but not enough energy to argue. "You're a survivor, Monoma."

"That I am," he says smugly as he takes her payment. "Thank you for your continued patronage!"

"Thanks," she manages, seemingly summoning all self-control not to chug all her coffee in one sitting. (Ironic, really, how rampant caffeine addiction must be in this hospital.) But just as Monoma's preparing to leave, she calls him back with a frown. "Hey, Monoma, there's an extra coffee here."

He freezes with a flinch. "Oh… oh, there is?"

Kendo takes the cup and squints at the scribbles on the side. "Four shots of espresso and nothing else? Are you trying to kill someone?"

"Ahhh-haha!" Monoma snatches the cup from her before she's able to turn the cup to see the name scribbled at the side. "That's, that's mine, Kendo! I simply forgot that I brought it with me to drink!"

She narrows her eyes at him. "First of all, since when have you drank black coffee, Monoma? I've never seen you drink anything more bitter than a _café liégeois _."

"Excuse me? Bitter coffees do not bother me! I can take _un cafe _without anything just fine!"

She gives him a judging look, likely remembering the time he almost threw up drinking the 'Death Wish' coffees that she let them try that one time. She really shouldn't, by the way, those coffees were so strong and bitter he needed to eat sweets for three days straight just to recover. "Second of all, you _never _drink coffee on the go, even if it's your coffee. You always make a big fuss over people drinking coffee out of the cafe and not enjoying it like they do in France."

Monoma sniffs haughtily. "I'm not wrong! You lose a lot of the coffee drinking experience by not sitting down and collecting your thoughts while enjoying the flavors! But, it's not like I can be choosy with my caffeine intake these days! It's just been that busy!"

"Okay. If you're busy, you're busy." Kendo continues to stare at him critically, though.

"What?"

"To see is to believe," she says plainly, crossing her arms in front of her.

Monoma frowns at her. "Don't you have better things to do, Kendo?"

"Oh no, Nejire-senpai's covering for me upstairs. I got like… twenty minutes to kill?" To emphasize just how time means very little to her, she takes a long sip of her coffee and keeps her unblinking eyes on him.

"How nice for you. I don't have that sort of luxury unfortunately."

She raises her eyebrows at him. "Okay. Go then."

The emergency room's _right there, _dammit. Twenty paces to his right, the opposite direction where the exit is. Not like he can waltz in there now with a cup of death coffee that definitely isn't free service for anyone who could be lurking in there or whatever. Why is Kendo being so snoopy today of all days?

"Okay. I'm going." It's also very very _very _annoying to his petty self that the black-coffee-addicted girl is definitely feeling more self-satisfied than she has any legal right to, having caught him in an obvious lie. So what else is he to do but to stare at her just as unblinkingly and take a long, thoughtful sip of the coffee like it's a long, satisfying drag of a cigarette?

(Blegh. Bitter.)

She looks genuinely surprised as she watches. He gives her a smug raise of an eyebrow through the unpleasant jolt of caffeine in his veins. "Wow, Monoma. That's pretty amazing," she concedes.

"It's just coffee." A brown potion with a fatal dose of poison in it-oh lord, his brain's going into hyperdrive and his heart is on the verge of cardiac arrest already from that one sip, but he mustn't let it show. "All right, I have things to be, places to do, mushrooms to kill-"

"Okay. Tetsu and I'll see you later," Kendo says with an amused smile. "You can still give that to him if you want. I'm sure he won't mind the indirect kiss. He'll think of it as extra service."

He chokes on his spit just as Kendo gives him a cutesy little teasing grin and a wave of a normal-sized hand. She's gone before he can give a retort.

How much does that minx know? And anyway, like hell he can still give this coffee to Dr. Shinsou now, what sort of renowned chef gives a half-consumed cup of coffee as service?! As it is, he can't even dump this extra coffee on Rin now, it'll be too embarrassing! Monoma wishes he could take back her coffee and put seven heaping spoonfuls of sugar in it.

With a sense of defeat and irritation, he steps to the left and tries not to look through the emergency doors anymore.

* * *

He comes back to his shop with a scowl, a ¼ cup of coffee too cold to be enjoyable, and a heart setting up for arrest from how hard it's palpitating.

"Welcome back!" Rin calls from behind the counter with a grin. Seeing the cup of coffee though, he turns as white as confectioners sugar. "Um… are you going to make me drink that too, Monoma?"

Monoma shakes his head. Oblivious to his obvious frenetic misery, Rin lets out a sigh of relief. "That's good! I mean, I love your coffees and all but that extra one you always bring with you is strong as heck. I haven't slept for the past couple of weeks, you know." He then sees the very apparent tremor in the chef's hand. "Hey… you didn't drink it, did you?"

"Oh! No… not all of it?" He feels a little sorry for subjecting his overworked part-timer to this sort of assault on his bodily integrity, but he has no capacity to ruminate on that when he feels so _on edge. _

Rin sighs. With a knowing hum that's almost motherly, he pushes a glass of water towards him, and a little tea cake. "Why would you do that? You could have died out there, boss. I've never seen you take anything stronger than an espresso cheesecake."

Why does everyone assume he's so weak against bitter stuff?! He wouldn't be this good in making coffee if he was so bad at drinking them! That being said, he takes the water and the cookie gratefully, finally getting the ghastly bitter taste out of his mouth. "It's no big deal! I just assumed we'll be busy today and thought I needed the extra boost, that's all!"

Is his voice usually that loud? Rin dodges from a particularly wild gesticulation that just flew out his arms. Oh, he is going to regret this stupid coffee later.

"_ Maman, _you're back!" Komori's little head sprouts from next to Rin like a little mushroom blooming on a carcass. "Are you ready to work now? Feeling energized? Shroomed-up? You've been leaving me alone in the kitchen for a few days now~"

Her tone is sweet, but the gleam in her eye behind her fringe is as deadly as a deathcap. Monoma flinches as the aura gets to him. "_ Oui, _Komori! I'm going, I'm going-"

Komori gives him a real, sweet smile then and disappears at the back. Monoma follows, slightly chastised and wondering who's the boss between them anyway.

Well, it shouldn't matter. As soon as he steps in and changes into his chef's whites and takes command of the kitchen, as he does without much difficulty, all silly thoughts are out the window. People have told him before that he's an entirely different person when he bakes-serious, impressive, focused. All movements precise and measured, no extraneous motions or words to be had. With each tick of the clock, he produces many beautiful creations - macarons, eclairs, tartes, and the like, one after the other, each one more perfect than the last.

Those people who comment about the difference in his person do not know what they're talking about. He really feels like himself when he bakes.

Today he's so focused that he's even able to forget the awful aftershocks of the coffee he took that morning. And it's a good thing, because the orders just kept coming. Before he knows it, hours have passed and it's already the late afternoon. Didn't have time to sit down, or eat, or even throw a single insult to Satou's across the street. The efforts of the day suddenly hit him like a truck.

It's not food or drink that his body craved that moment, though. Fingers twitching, he pats his body down searching for his pack, finds none, and clicks his tongue. "I'm stepping out for a bit, Komori. Can you handle things for ten… fifteen minutes?"

Komori frowns at him. As is her habit when he gives in to his, she says, "You musht get rid of that habit, Chef. It's not good for you."

Of course he knows it isn't good for him-risks of lung cancer and heart disease and killing his sense of taste and all that-but he's _so stressed _and tired and his body needs to do something else, breathe something else so he can distract himself from the stress and keep going. Besides, it's not like all the sugary confections he makes are brimming with health and goodness anyway. If anything, his cigarette habit matches his sweets: the orally-fixated's path to an early death.

And so he waves Komori's concerns off and goes out of the kitchen and into the shop to lie to Rin about stepping out to buy cigs at the Lawson a block away.

But he couldn't, because Rin's talking to a customer. And Monoma finds himself frozen in his steps.

"... anyway, you're welcome to wait here while he finishes up. I'm sure he's just about done-oh. Here he is." Rin greets him with a smile, gesturing to the customer looming over the counter. "Chef Monoma! You have a visitor!"

It takes him a few seconds of blinking and remembering how to breathe before he registers the presence of Dr. Shinsou Hitoshi in the specific spot on God's green earth within his vicinity. Sure he looks as tired as ever, his eyebags might even be deeper than they were when they first met. But at least he's out of his scrubs, and in casual clothes-a dark hoodie with the name of a band emblazoned over its front, and dark jeans and sneakers that make him look tall and broad and attractive in that vagrant, unassuming way that has Monoma wondering why he considers it attractive anyway.

It must be the combination of nicotine withdrawal and coffee jitters, it has to be.

After a few seconds of silence, Shinsou blinks, as if he were just as surprised as he is. "Hey chef. Finally caught you here."

Monoma forces some functionality in his brain as he eloquently replies. "Finally?"

"Yup." Shinsou points to Rin with his thumb. "I've dropped by here a couple of times last week, but every time I do Rin-san tells me that you're out doing deliveries and such. Was beginning to wonder if you're avoiding me or I'm just really bad with timing."

And _now _Monoma remembers Rin saying something about a customer wanting to see him while he was out hunting for this person. He'd been so disappointed that he didn't pay heed to it. Monoma resists a terrible urge to hit his forehead repeatedly with his palm.

"Oh that… yeah, we've been terribly busy, Dr. Shinsou. Tsuburaba's still out of commission, as you'd expect. Sorry about that," he says, hoping he sounds smooth and not as stupid as he felt then. "So… coffee! I promised you coffee, so I should get you coffee!"

Ignoring the itch in his fingers for a cigarette, Monoma gives Rin a bunch of hand signals before Shinsou can say anything. Rin looks at him in confusion because _since when have they communicated via hand signals?! _But the man's a professional, and has a keen instinct when it comes to understanding Monoma, so he's on it in a flash.

Monoma leads Shinsou to one of the tables-for-two at an isolated spot in the shop before he can change his mind. In a few moments, Rin's placing a tiny shot of espresso in front of Shinsou and a quiche. For Monoma, he places a parfait.

"Where's my coffee?" he complains, after Shinsou raises his eyebrows at the bright, sweet thing in front of him.

"Hm? What was that?" Rin's smile is as zen as ever, but there's an extra tension and hard, hard scales over his fingers when he pats Monoma's shoulder and stares at him with a look that says _You're not asking for more caffeine are you? After subjecting yourself to that shit this morning? It's~not~healthy~ _

"... nothing. Thank you, Rin," Monoma mutters.

With that, Rin gives another customer-service smile directed at Shinsou and leaves the two of them to talk.

Shinsou stares at the interaction blankly. "So… that's interesting. Are you sure you're the boss around here?"

"Of course I'm the boss around here! It's not like I just let them do whatever they want! I'm not a pushover or anything!" It's just that his employees are the most terrifying when it came to taking care of him, that's all.

"Wasn't implying that. Just that I've never seen someone treat his employees like you do. You know, letting them call you _maman _and holding their hand when they're scared and getting injured 'cause you were watching over them."

Monoma puffs his cheeks. "And?"

Shinsou's face breaks out into a grin. "I think it's cool. Shows that you really care about them."

Something weird swirls inside Monoma's chest again at those words. The man completely ignores the blush that spreads on his face and brings the coffee up to his nose and inhales it with a sense of satisfaction. "Plus, you guys make _really great coffee. _So I guess you're doing a good job of running this place."

"Of course I am! It's telling of a fantastic employer, how he treats his subordinates, isn't it? I can do no less, it's impossible for me to do a terrible job at anything!" The chance to brag gives him a way out of the embarrassed flush on his face, even though he feels himself going out of control again. "Now if you want a place less perfect than this place, maybe go across the street and watch how Satou does things? I mean sure, his cakes are decent and his coffee's edible, but don't be fooled by all of that! He's got-"

Shinsou's got his eyebrows raised again in that curious way of his, indigo eyes unreadable. Any minute now he's going to do that laugh he does, and he's going to scare Shinsou off. Just when he finally got him right where he wanted him, too…

The bell chimes. He hears two familiar voices vocalize something that sounds like a greeting and a judgy huff at the same time. "Hey Monoma. And, Shinsou! You're here too!"

Kendo's there on the dot for her third or fourth dose of black coffee for the day, her loud metallic boyfriend Dr. Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu in tow. She gives them a grin and tells the purple-haired guy, "So you're finally here to claim your free coffee, huh, Shinsou?"

Shinsou nods, his awkward smile strangely seeming like he's got his hand caught in a cookie jar full of Monoma's insecurities. "Yeah. Here I am."

"Cool. Hey Monoma, make an extra effort to be sane, won't you? I don't think he's slept for the past forty-eight hours or so? He might not be able to take it if you're your usual, um… _extra _self."

"Well I never!" Monoma complains, just as Shinsou mumbles, "It's cool, Kendo, he's not that bad."

But at the new knowledge that the guy hasn't slept for two whole days, Monoma pays attention to his tired visage. Apart from the shadows under his eyes, his skin is pale and hair more disheveled, even though it's impossible to fathom at first. He really does look like he's at the brink of taking a week-long nap and probably has no use for Monoma's blatherings and such.

As usual, Kendo has a point. But the fact that despite all that Shinsou's sat there for five minutes without rolling his eyes at Monoma or teasing him relentlessly like his friends do is almost sweet.

Tetsutetsu, loud in every way, laughs at the two of them. "Nice one, Shinsou! I'm glad you finally got to take him out on a date, man!"

Silence falls over the entire cafe like an atomic bomb. Kendo's face is frozen as if in a middle of a silent scream; from the counter, Rin looks dumbfounded enough to drop the cups he's cleaning. Komori, who's peeked out of the kitchen to see what the commotion is about, looks completely scandalized.

Monoma doesn't want to know what his face looks like. He doubts that one can read an actual human emotion from it.

And Shinsou, well. Simply put, the saucer-wide eyes and jaw-drop that rivals Tsuburaba's horror movie face is the very picture of mortification.

"What?" Tetsutetsu says in genuine confusion. He turns to Kendo and meets the unforgiving flare of her teal eyes. "I'm just saying, he's been tryin' all week to-_ mphh! _"

Whatever he was about to say is interrupted by Kendo's enlarged right hand. She smiles at the couple and utters a quick and apologetic, "I'll take care of this one! Don't mind us bye!" and drags her suffocating boyfriend out on the streetside seats. Through the glass separating inside and out, they hear Kendo telling him something through gritted teeth and Tetsutetsu's not-so-subtle moment of realization.

When Monoma quietly turns to Shinsou again, he's got his hands covering his face and his eyes trained directly into the espresso under his nose. There's a long, painful moment of silence before Monoma decides to break it. "So… that was interesting?"

"... yeah," Shinsou replies, with a bitter laugh. "So… I'll see myself out? My mortal vessel's got an important appointment with a ten-wheeler truck it can't miss, ya see. Nice knowing you-"

"No, no!" Monoma holds out his hand to stop him before he stands up. "Wait, Dr. Shinsou, you don't have to go. Stay right where you are, please."

Shinsou sinks back into the cushions with obvious reluctance. He has an obvious hard time looking at Monoma in the eye, has an even harder time doing anything purposeful at this point except to hide his face. The blonde can't blame him; he suspects he's having a similar episode of bashfulness too.

But at least his cheeks are pinker now, not at all like the deathly sleepless pallor he has before. And that expression he's making-awkward, fragile, confused. Sort of like a stray cat he once encountered in Brussels before, who didn't know what to do with a cup of cream he offered so he could bait it out from underneath the family car.

Unexpectedly cute, in other words. Monoma tries his hardest not to smile too much at the sight of it because it might be interpreted as smug and ruin the moment. "I'm a little surprised, Dr. Shinsou. I didn't know you thought of me that way."

He tries to speak calmly, even though his mind is in an interesting place right now. The Neitos controlling his head are abuzz, high-fiving each other, clicking their heels mid-air, and rolling on the floor and screaming into pillows like a teenage girl.

"That so?" Shinsou begins with an anxious rub of his hand against the back of his neck. "Well… no use denying it now I guess. Not to threaten your friends in front of you or anything, but I'm really gonna kick Tetsu's ass after this."

"Oh, you really should. I'll help you out if you like. I don't think Kendo's gonna stop either of us for planning to."

Shinsou finally allows another grin on his face. "So. Um, if you're still willing to help me out and all. I don't know how to approach this really weird, socially distressing situation I find myself in now."

The blonde tilts his head with an amused smile. "And what situation is that, pray tell?"

The doctor's face softens then; perhaps because Monoma's smiling like he can't help it, and also the fact that he hasn't turned tail and ran or asked Rin to kick him out of the premises yet. He leans forward, cradles the side of his face in one of those large hands he'd admired from day one, and exposes his teeth in that charming way of his again.

"How to get this cute, obnoxious chef to agree to have dinner with me without sounding like an awkward idiot?"

Monoma makes the tiniest offended sound. "Well, I don't know which obnoxious chef you're talking about, because there isn't one nearby. But I suppose it's obvious that you should just ask?"

"That so?"

"Yes." Monoma clears his throat. "Because as it happens, Dr. Shinsou… I really have taken an interest in you. So…"

Really, Neito? 'I have really taken an interest in you,' he says. Too stiff, too formal, you could have just said _I really like you Shinsou-kun, I really do- _but wait, is that too overboard in this situation? What do people say in these sorts of situations anyway?

Shinsou cuts into his internal mental panic with a laugh. "Maybe we can start by exchanging emails, how about that?"

Monoma obliges, thankful to have a diversion from his steadily reddening face. He saves his number with a star emoji and sends himself a message. When he returns the phone to him, he takes note of the lockscreen on his phone. _Cute, _he thinks, but who knows if he's talking about the chubby tabby cat sleeping on a messy bed, or the messy-haired man taking a selfie next to it.

After that, they talk briefly about where to go and when. Monoma would have wanted to go right then and there, afraid that this is all just a complex daydream from all the stimulants in his bloodstream, but it's apparent that whatever energy reserves Shinsou had when he entered the cafe had all but diminished during this encounter with him.

They decide on Saturday evening-it's a day off for Shinsou, and he can spend the entire day paying his sleep debt and maybe manage dinner and drinks without looking like he'll pass out in the middle of it. Monoma has work in the morning, but he'll manage too-at least if he tires himself out, maybe he won't act like a natural disaster waiting to happen.

"That settles that, I guess," Shinsou says with a glance at his wristwatch. "So… it's been great, Chef, but now I gotta go home and feed Mackerel."

Monoma hums. "Your cat?"

"Sort of? Cats own you and not vice-versa, unfortunately," he says as he stands up. Monoma follows him, and soon they're standing by the door, staring at each other.

_Will this ever be any less awkward? _Monoma thinks in despair as he looks at Shinsou's indiscriminately good-looking face and tries not to smile too much. _Will he ever look any less cute? _

"I'll see you around then, Chef," he says with another lopsided grin.

_No. No he will not. _"I'll see you around, Doc."

With a wave of the hand, Shinsou walks away and disappears into the darkening streets of Hosu.

Monoma allows himself a small exhale as he watches him go. By this time his heart is throbbing wildly in his chest, and he doesn't know if it's still the caffeine spiking from the coffee he drank that morning. He can't help the silly smile on his face, either. And…

"Dreamy sigh, check," a certain snarky mushroom gremlin named Komori voices from behind him, totally ruining the moment.

"Cute pink cheeks with shoujo manga sparkles, check," Rin adds brightly, not minding the way Monoma turns his head to glare at his two employees whom he could totally fire right now if he wanted to.

"Hand dramatically clutching the doorframe as his big obvious crush leaves… check," Kendo finishes with a sagely sip of her black coffee, and since when did she enter the cafe again? Because isn't it about time to kick them all out so he could concentrate on this real miracle that happened just now?

She doesn't move when he voices out his monologue. "I'm not moving. And why are you so irritable when you made me so proud of you for managing a human conversation with him?"

"Yeah, Monoma! Great job, he didn't seem to think you were too crazy back then!" Tetsutetsu says while his shark teeth gnash through a ham and cheese croissant.

"You! You have the least right to be here, you oaf! I should ban you from this place for the next hundred years!" Monoma exclaims, pulling his plate away from him.

Tetsutetsu chokes at the blatant act of rejection. Thankfully Kendo doesn't stop any of it this time because he really does deserve it. "I didn't mean it okay! I mean, the way you guys were staring at each other made me think that you were already at it!"

This gives Monoma a cause to pause. "What do you mean?"

Tetsutetsu groans as if it's so obvious. "It's so obvious you're into each other! I mean, besides the stuff I know 'bout Shinsou, which I'll never tell ya since he might really kill me next time if I do…" … much to the chagrin of Monoma, but he lets him continue, "I knew from Kendo you've been trynna hunt him down for weeks since you went to the ER!"

Monoma gives Kendo a betrayed look. She just shrugs in response. "It's so obvious, Monoma And you wrote his name on the cup. With a little heart, no less."

"... so he's the reason why I had to drink all the rejected coffees?" Rin sighs. "Boss, your game's so weak. If you just let me deliver the stuff like usual, you coulda been dating him like a week ago."

Never mind that they've all been accurate so far. The disrespect, he cannot abide! Anyway, "It doesn't matter now, does it! I have a date with him, don't I?"

Just saying it makes his heart go into overdrive again. The next thing he knows he's curling up on the floor and burying his face in his hands, over-dramatic as is his usual way of life. It's so that Komori crouches next to him to see that he's alive, Rin begins to prepare some Chinese herbal concoction designed to keep him calm, and none of them have any reason anymore to kick Tetsutetsu out of the premises.

It's silly how such a sleepy man has that effect on him, really. He barely knows the guy apart from 'handsome' and 'awkward,' and the little spark of electricity he feels when he's around him.

But, Monoma can't help but have a good feeling about the days he's about to face with Shinsou Hitoshi.


	2. You Were Right, Hitoshi

**Indigo and Lilac Wine  
Chapter 2: You Were Right, Hitoshi**

_note: The events of the last part of this chapter coincide with the events of chapter 4 of Ruby Red and Caramel (you don't need to read that to understand this! but there are scenes there that I wasn't able to describe in this narration anymore)  
Thanks Niko for helping me revise a huge chunk of this chapter! _

* * *

As far as dates go, Monoma supposes that this one is pretty decent. Shinsou looked acceptable enough in well-fitting trousers and a button-down shirt (with the sleeves rolled up!) that Monoma almost forgot how to speak a few minutes in, but after that things went smoothly.

The food was good, the wine was great, the conversation even more so. Monoma talked a lot about himself, as he usually tends to do. But to his surprise Shinsou seemed to enjoy listening to him, even asking thoughtful questions every now and then like _which pastry do you like making the most _and _isn't it strange that you have a cafe when you can't stand drinking coffee black _and also _if Komori-san and Tsuburaba-san are your kids then does that mean Rin-san is the dad _etc. He should not allow Shinsou to freely tease him like this, but strangely enough the deadpan banter is entertaining.

He likes the way the other man cups his chin in his hand and genuinely looks interested when he tells a story. He likes the sophisticated way he cuts the medium-rare sirloin steak he orders with a bottle of Merlot of his choosing that's actually not shitty at all for someone who isn't a connoisseur. He likes how his left wrist looks with that Swiss automatic watch. He likes the way he chuckles when Monoma fakes being offended by his jokes.

He likes listening to Shinsou talk: a strange mixture of blunt and eloquent that's pleasing to the ears. He stumbles occasionally into strings of English words in an accent that tells him that he spent some years outside Japan too.

"Sorry… yeah, you're right, I grew up in London. Moved here in middle school. Parents still used English at home, so I'm more used to it." An interested tilt of the head; what Monoma has accidentally let slip with a sip of wine doesn't go past him. "You grew up overseas too?"

Monoma pulls his lips in a straight line. "Yes," he answers. In Brussels, for a few tumultuous years in between elementary school and culinary school in Musutafu. He would have gone back here earlier for high school, but...

He hopes he doesn't appear too uneasy when he is asked to elaborate. He isn't sure if Shinsou notices.

He likes the purple eyebrows, those long purple lashes that cast a shadow over his eyebags. He likes Shinsou's face in general-handsome despite those distinct eyebags that has people looking over their shoulders in interest.

He likes that when the restaurant's about to close and their conversation isn't over yet, he holds the door open for him. And that he asks him if he's cold when they walk to his car. And that he remembers to tell him to wear his seatbelt, how his arm looks when holds onto the back of the passenger seat when he puts the car in reverse, how his face looks in profile against the city lights that pass them by, his voice, his smile-

Dammit, he _just likes Shinsou. _More than he ever thought he could.

He wonders if he makes that clear by telling him that _he likes him _when the man brings him home. He wonders if Shinsou gets how torturous the influx of feelings in his chest and stomach and spine and fingertips are. He wonders if it's too much just for a first date.

He wonders if Shinsou feels the same way.

He gets a clue when Shinsou refuses a coffee in his apartment because he has work early the next day.

Another clue, when Monoma's deflated turn of the head is interrupted by Shinsou's hand on his shoulder. And then a single look bashful look, a beat of silence he spends holding his breath and waiting for Monoma's slight nod of the head.

The taller man pulls him close and presses his mouth gently to his.

The kiss ends quickly enough that Monoma feels mildly disoriented when it's over, but slow enough that his senses are flooded by all of Shinsou-the softness of his lips, the hint of pepper in his cologne, the indigo that floods his vision when he leans in closer, the rush of air between them as they breathe in unison.

"I like you too, Monoma," he tells him, voice so husky and deep it's _unfair _. "We should do this again."

Monoma laughs as haughtily as he can to recover, but it's clear how utterly helpless he is then. "Of course, Dr. Shinsou. I would be personally offended if we didn't."

Shinsou smiles. "I'd hate to offend someone as cute as you, as maddening as that mouth of yours gets."

And then he's off: broad back and long limbs climbing into the car, driving off into the night. Monoma watches his movements in a daze, wondering why he's seeing him off when he usually doesn't bother doing that for anyone he's dated before. To think he could be using that valuable time finally getting to the cigarette he's been thinking about all night.

Strangely enough Monoma doesn't claim the cancer stick that his nicotine-addicted body feels entitled to having. Instead he finds himself listening to his erratic heart and touching his lips as he struggles to calm down, trying to name the feeling wanting to erupt within him. Bubbly, is that the term? Jesus, how childish, he should hate himself for it. He knows that there will be no reprieve until he sees Shinsou again.

It takes a while before that happens; it's challenging to pick a day where either of them could survive an evening without passing out, but they manage. The second date comes in the form of dinner and a movie; the third in the following week, at a nearby gallery where Monoma's friend, the artist Kamakiri, showcased his newest installment series (_ STOLEN- _about his personal experience of his quirk being stolen by villains and the quirkless, unresolved aftermath).

Both times they talk until it's past midnight. Monoma is more careful about inviting Shinsou in, but less careful with his touches, his closeness. Even less when it comes to the kisses, which are always unexpected and welcome, scorching and surprising, too long and too short, magnificent and overwhelming. Each time Monoma wonders if he'll ever get sick of it, and always he learns the hard way that he wouldn't when Shinsou leaves.

The fourth date is a simple affair because that's all they can manage. Monoma's exhausted from making endless batches of macarons and cakes. Shinsou's dying because he hasn't slept for the past 36 hours. But a week has passed since they saw each other and it didn't seem to matter if they simultaneously fall asleep over their salad, as long as they see that the other is still alive with their own eyes.

They have dinner at an Italian place near Shinsou's apartment in Hosu. Shinsou says their ravioli's decent, but it's hard to be convinced of that when the man struggles to keep his eyes open enough to stick his fork in one.

"I think I should take you home, Dr. Shinsou," Monoma tells him, half in amusement and half in concern.

Shinsou rubs his eyes. "... yeah. Sorry. I'm bad company, aren't I?"

"No, not at all. I think it's sweet that you still tried to see me even though you're practically sleepwalking the entire way here."

He blinks so slowly Monoma suspects he actually falls asleep in between. "You're not doing so hot yourself, Chef. I mean, you used the salad fork to eat your pasta and all."

Monoma looks down on his hand and realizes in complete mortification that he's right. "Ugh, why didn't you tell me? Did you enjoy watching me eat this linguini like a... a _plebe _?"

Shinsou chuckles through another sleepy blink. "It's cute how you get worked up over rich boy stuff like this, but go through a pack of Lucky Strikes like a common salaryman."

The blonde grumbles. "I'm working on quitting the habit like you said, okay? I think I've got your anti-smoking PSA memorized. I can probably recite all the horrors of lung cancer and the like even though we're both half-dead."

"Do tell," Shinsou says as they stand up to leave. Monoma sniffs and proves just that, reciting all those fancy medical terms for stinky breath and ugly gums and heart disease as they walk through the busy streets of Hosu, with Shinsou trying his best to pay attention to the pedestrians and traffic lights. Even though he manages not to get run over, Monoma keeps his hand at the crook of his arm, just in case he veers off course.

Five minutes later they're in front of Shinsou's apartment-third floor of an old apartment complex, only slightly rundown and probably smaller than Monoma's place. Shinsou fumbles with the key briefly and gets the door open.

"Thanks for getting me here in one piece, Monoma," he mumbles with a sleepy grin. "And I'm sorry we cut it short. I'm gonna make it up to you."

The blonde smiles smugly. "I'm glad you realize that you owe me, Dr. Shinsou. If you were some other sleepy man, I'd have left you to pass out over your ravioli without a shred of remorse."

"I'm glad I'm special then," he chuckles.

_Yes… you are, _Monoma agrees, absolutely helpless.

They stare at each other's eyes, each other's mouths. Lean in closer, until they're a breath apart and their mouths meet again. Monoma drowns in the sheer intoxication of his proximity, the sensation of rough hands on his cheeks, his tongue on his lips, his breath through his mouth. The feel of him is everything he's missed in the week he hasn't seen him, igniting everything within him.

A feeling that won't last, he knows, when Shinsou would inevitably break the kiss, bid him goodnight, send him off, and…

"Oh," Monoma gasps over his mouth as Shinsou pushes him through the door and pins him against the wall.

Shinsou kisses him for another long, sweet moment before looking him in the eye. "Is this okay?" he asks, cheeks flushed.

"Yes," Monoma breathes, pulling him back in.

He feels his mouth on him curl upwards and hears the door being kicked shut behind them.

* * *

And just like that, Monoma gets himself a boyfriend.

A handsome, snarky, lazy cathead who's the biggest pain in the neck when he wants to be, but a boyfriend nonetheless.

Monoma can't stop himself from thinking of other similar words to describe him as he attempts to wriggle out from under the deadweight of Shinsou's arm. "It's six thirty. Put some clothes on and get moving," he grumbles.

Purple bloodshot eyes open, stare at him briefly from under a mess of blankets and pillows, and close unrepentantly. "No."

It takes a lot of effort to unearth him from his makeshift burial site made of the pillows, blankets, and the duvet, and by the time he's done Monoma is already wide awake and huffing from the effort. "I'm not kidding! You don't want to be late. Do you want Eraserhead to do that scary cobra thing he does with his eyes and hair when he's mad?"

"Eh," is the eloquent reply.

"_ Hitoshi. _"

"Five minutes," Shinsou mumbles, burying his face further into a pillow until Monoma can see nothing but wild purple hair.

The blonde rolls his eyes. "A twenty-seven year old grown-ass man, ladies and gentlemen," he mutters. "At least one of us has to act like an adult, Dr. Shinsou." Monoma has to go to work too; he doesn't have time to dilly-dally and endure Komori's judgmental glare again.

The most sensible thing to do would be to leave him there and brush his teeth with the light blue toothbrush he keeps in Shinsou's bathroom and change out of Shinsou's old Swat Kats shirt that's way too big for him and into an extra set of clothes he keeps in Shinsou's drawers. It's hard to do any of that if this grown-ass man wouldn't loosen his grip over his torso, though.

Shinsou, as expected, does _not. _Instead he pulls him back down onto the futon, not paying heed to Monoma's offended yelp. A brief half-struggle occurs, one which Monoma obviously loses when the bigger man presses him down onto the cushions with his weight. The blonde huffs as Shinsou snuggles into the crook of his neck, exactly like Mackerel does when she's feeling cuddly.

"Hito-"

"Sssh." Shinsou mindlessly pulls him closer and mumbles a string of English words that Monoma barely catches. "_ Don't move. You're so soft and warm, Nei… _" He sighs again, this time directly at the shell of his ear, making him tremble. " _And you smell… so… nice… _"

Monoma wills himself to feel exasperated. A challenge, because Shinsou's using that husky tone that leaves him weak 100% of the time he uses it against him. "We can't..."

"Three minutes," he rumbles, so sluggishly that it's hardly intelligible.

And then nothing else matters. In that sort of closeness, time slows with the man's breathing, melting with the warmth of Shinsou's bare chest and arms around him.

He's helpless. He knows it. Shinsou definitely knows it. With a sigh, Monoma relents. "Fine. Three minutes." They both know that it's going to be ten minutes. But it's been a hard week for Shinsou, so he lets him snooze a little more anyway.

Twenty minutes later they're rushing out of the apartment, hardly any hope of making it to work on time. On the way out Shinsou hastily leaves food for Mackerel and kisses her on the head as affectionately as a loving parent would kiss a child-not that Monoma would know, but he digresses. "Hey, so if I don't get home on time-"

"Right, right. I'll take care of her." Monoma prods the slightly offended tabby cat on the nose. "Too bad, Macky-chan, that's what you get for having such a workaholic for a dad."

With that, they speed-walk into the neighborhood. It's almost seven when they reach Monoma's and see Tsuburaba cleaning the tables outside with a cheerful, healthy hum.

"_ Bonjour _Chef! Hey Dr. Shinsou! Cutting it close this morning, eh?" As it usually happens when Tsuburaba has a morning shift, there's already a cup of coffee and a sandwich waiting for the doctor at a nearby table.

"Yeah," Shinsou replies bashfully, looking at the freebies with some apprehension. "Is this really okay, Tsuburaba-san? You don't have to feed me whenever you see me, y'know…"

"I know, but you and Dr. Asui saved my life and that's a pretty big deal! Plus you keep the chef calm and not smelling like a damn chimney so it's the least I can do," the wide-eyed guy replies with a dismissive wave of the hand. "Oh, speaking of Dr. Asui, uh... you know, I haven't had a chance to thank her yet, at least, um. Not properly. I mean last time I tried but I don't think she understood what I meant-"

Of course the frog doctor wouldn't understand what Tsuburaba meant, seeing as all he does when she visits is shove an extra croissant in her hands and try not to pass out from the effort of having a real conversation with her. Monoma ought to feel sorry for him and his shyness, but that's ten free croissants too many. "That was two months ago! If you have anything to say to Dr. Asui, tell her yourself!"

Tsuburaba puffs his cheeks and looks at Shinsou for emotional support. The purple-haired man laughs awkwardly. "Not promising anything but I'll see what I can do, Tsuburaba-san."

The shine in his saucer-like eyes practically lights up the entire street. "You would?! Wait-ah, I gotta be emotionally ready for this, I can't afford to mess this up-"

Monoma is just about to interrupt Tsuburaba's awkward rant when the door jingles open, revealing a mildly irate brown sprout of hair. "Dr. Shinsou! _Bonjour! _"

"Hey, Komori-san," Shinsou replies with a smile.

"Where's my _bonjour, _Komori?" the affronted Monoma complains.

"You're late, _maman. _I am not greeting you good morning and you are going in to make the quiches whether you like it or not," Komori humphs with an upturn of the nose just as a large shadow looms over them. "Oh, _bonjour, _Satou-san!"

Sure enough, his dreaded rival and completely objectionable next-door-neighbor passes by them, carrying two crates of heavy ingredients all at once. As usual, Satou Rikido is oblivious to the vitriol in Monoma's gaze and greets everyone in his usual cheery way. "_ Bonjour _everyone! Hey, Dr. Shinsou! Cutting it close today, I see!"

A floating uniform set carrying a smaller crate bounces along next to him and gives a happy little wave in their direction. "_ Bonjour! _Dr. Shinsou, you're here again! Aren't you late for work?"

"Hey Satou-san. Hagakure-san," Shinsou greets back. The annoyed and thoroughly ignored Monoma is beginning to sense a pattern here. "I got, like… five minutes. I'll make it if I half-jog."

"Well don't let us keep you. Monoma's bringing you tomorrow, right?" Satou asks. "Hope you make it, since it'll be our last event before our restaurant closes for the next five years!"

Before Shinsou can answer, Monoma clicks his tongue and waves his hands around. "All right, kindly stop hogging my boyfriend's attention and get back to work! He's already late as it is!"

The crowd disperses, not without grumbles or giggles at Monoma's expense. Soon he's left to deal with Shinsou's smug smile all on his own. "You like that, huh? You like seeing how everyone likes you so much better than me? You like seeing me fighting for your attention?"

"You can't stand not being the center of attention, huh?" It's annoying how self-satisfied he looks. "Or do you just not like it when I pay attention to anyone else but you?"

Monoma puffs his cheeks. "That wasn't my point! And don't you make fun of me, you're already late and-"

Shinsou interrupts him with a kiss. Monoma grumbles at the contact, melts under his touch for the brief moment it takes, and grumbles some more when they pull apart.

He laughs and finally turns to leave. "_ Don't worry _. _There's no-one else but you _."

Before Monoma can retort, Shinsou's already straight up sprinting as quickly as his long legs can take him, finally aware of all the time he's wasted and the looming threat of Dr. Aizawa's wrath. He only manages a lame little "_ See you later, Hitoshi _" that he isn't even sure Shinsou hears.

He doesn't realize that he's staring wistfully into the distance as all traces of that shade of indigo disappears from his line of vision, until Tsuburaba slaps him in the back. "A man hopelessly in love," the wide-eyed boy says with a silly grin. "Gotta admit, I never thought I'd see the day."

What a preposterous thought to think about someone he's dated only for so long! Monoma has definitely been with other men for far longer than the forty-nine days he's spent with Shinsou, and he's never considered himself 'hopelessly in-love' as Tsuburaba claims. He's never reached a point in those relationships to imagine himself staying for very long.

Maybe that's why none of them has been bestowed the honor of seeing Monoma dressed in their clothes. Or brushing their teeth reluctantly next to him on lazy mornings better spent in bed. Or watching Monoma argue with their cat to hell and back and wondering if he can copy an animal's quirk.

Shit. So what now? Is he beginning to expect? Has he been unconsciously planning to stay with Shinsou for a long time?

No, that can't be right. He may like Shinsou so very, very much but it doesn't mean Monoma's head-over-heels in-love with the guy. He doesn't even know what that entails.

"Don't fret, boss. It's a good look on you," Tsuburaba says with a laugh. "I wasn't kidding when I said that he calms you down."

"Are you insinuating that I'm no better than a rabid animal before I started seeing him?!"

"Your words, not mine."

"Well I never!" Monoma declares with a scowl. This is the thanks he gets for not allowing Tsuburaba to die from a ruptured gut?! Why, he should have just left him on the floor and let Kaibara collect his body from the dumpster at the back if he is to be disrespected this way!

"We both know you're too nice to do that," Tsuburaba sing-songs as they walk in the cafe to prepare for the day. "But most especially now? All I'm saying is I'm happy for you, boss."

"Are you now?" It's way too early for sentimental hullabaloo like this and it's weird that the rarely serious Tsuburaba Kosei would be the one to initiate.

"_ Oui, maman, _" the part-timer says with a grin. "Komori thinks so too! Right?"

Komori pouts from behind an armful of baguettes. "You're always late nowadays, _maman, _" she grumbles, "but you're mush happier than before, when all you did was drink wine and watch those French shows by yourself. Plus, for once you aren't dating an obvious shiitake-head who would break your heart eventually."

Was that all he really did before? And even if it's true that his exes weren't all great guys, but they weren't that bad!

"Boss… they were all jerks," Tsuburaba says in exasperation. "Didn't you find it strange that all of them were eventually chased outta here by us? Kaibara especially?"

Monoma frowns. "I thought it was _Kaibara _who was being the jerk." The overprotective photographer with his distinct snarl isn't exactly known for his good temper, after all.

"Well… you're not wrong. It's a takes-one-to-know-one kinda thing. It's a good sign that he hasn't threatened to drag Dr. Shinsou to a back alley or something like that so far."

The chef scoffs. "If Kaibara tries, tell him that he isn't allowed to touch Hitoshi, and I'll use his quirk to drill his brains out if I have to!"

"Ew! _Maman, _that's gross!" Komori cries.

"And kinda sweet?" Tsuburaba adds with an uneasy laugh. "You got it so _bad, _boss _! _Admit it!"

"No. You are being ridiculous," Monoma says with a scowl. "Get back to work already before I fire you."

Tsuburaba whines, but does as he's told. Komori bounces back to her spot in the kitchen and prepares for their next batch. And Monoma, well, he tries his best not to dwell on the abnormal fuzzy feelings still lingering in his chest on Shinsou's words. Things are going too well, aren't they? Is it about time he stepped on the breaks?

Things like this weren't meant to last, anyway.

* * *

One way or another, Hitoshi makes it to the ER and changes into his scrubs just as Eraserhead barks at him to help in treating a sidekick afflicted by a berserker quirk. Shinsou almost gets punched in the face among other things but he gets the guy under a trance for long enough so that Kirishima can give him sedatives and quirk suppressants. Aizawa grumbles at him for cutting it close again, but not after he makes sure he's okay and right before two more thoroughly thrashed pros come hobbling through the triage and asking for help.

Hitoshi jumps in the chaos and treats one trauma patient after another. These days they get a lot of that due to an upsurge of villain activity that the hero associations haven't been able to manage as well as they should. Can't be helped, since the hero numbers are dwindling.

Lately vigilantes do more to help than the pros, although no-one would admit it. He and Shiozaki listen as another victim describes how he was almost kidnapped by a villain but was rescued at the last minute by a team of three: a man in black with a flame quirk, a younger girl who took some of the victim's blood and acted like a decoy to confuse the villain, and an older man in an All Might hoodie who glided him to safety.

"That's definitely the Crawler and his friends, right?" Tetsutetsu shouts through a mouthful of a nutribar. "Some of our patients said they helped 'em out too! Man, those guys are cool!"

It's late in the afternoon, a rare moment where they're able to collect themselves and eat their cold neglected lunches together in the pantry. Finally, the trauma victims have stopped coming and everyone waiting in the ER is at least stable.

Shiozaki speedily crosses herself, having finished saying grace for her humble meal of flat bread and dried fish. "Good Samaritans that they are, they are still criminals. They must be careful and abide by the law, or else they shall be in trouble."

"What?! But they're helpin' so many people-"

The vine-haired woman shakes her head. "My good friend Emily has been working hard with her colleague Yui in apprehending this vigilante group. It's frightening what potentially bad things they can do with their quirks."

Hitoshi frowns. That sort of reasoning isn't wrong, given that the forthright Shiozaki is talking about criminals. Sadly, it isn't new to him either, and the sting of the words hit him all the same.

Kirishima probably notices the change in his demeanor, because he turns to Shiozaki next. "I mean, sure, the fire dude and the vampire girl look like scary villains but it's obvious their intentions are good. They're helping the Crawler clean up the streets, right? It isn't fair to judge people by their looks or quirks."

"A tiny push is all it takes for anyone without virtue to become villains," Shiozaki maintains. It's obvious that no amount of arguing will change her mind. Tetsutetsu gives Kirishima a raise of the eyebrows; a tired look from Hitoshi stops the redhead from talking back any further.

Thankfully, no awkward silence occurs as they are called back on the floor when another wave of patients come in. Hitoshi and Kirishima jump to their feet and into the fray.

It's a while before they get another silent moment, but when they do Kirishima claps him on the shoulder. "Hey Shinsou. You okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" he replies dully, face carefully neutral.

This obviously does not get him off the hook. "Come on. I've known you since high school. I know how that kinda talk bothers you."

"Not really. We aren't in high school anymore," he huffs, turning away from the redhead. "Besides, Shiozaki-san doesn't know anything about any of that, so just leave it alone."

Things are different now than when they were in UA. People aren't insulting him to his face for having a quirk fit for villains. At least, not as much-just a few judgmental patients who won't consent to being brainwashed in the ER simply because they think it's creepy. And if anyone had anything to say about his quirk, it's usually behind his back now, in the form of idle gossip in the breakroom.

It sucks but that's just the way it is. Some people just suck. Hitoshi has learned that keeping himself low-key and keeping a handful of understanding people around him is enough to get by.

One of the handful of course is Kirishima. For some reason the guy has stuck to his side since UA General Studies and has taken it upon himself to watch out for him. Hitoshi appreciates it but the way he hovers around making sure he's okay, like he's a dad or something? Sometimes it's a little too much. Anyways, Hitoshi has an ample amount of father figures in his life: Dr. Aizawa, his 'close friend' and journalist Present Mic; Uncle Masaru; heck, even Kirishima's dad also checks in on him on occasion. And this is apart from Hitoshi's biological dad who constantly bugs him to come and visit Mom at least once a month.

Kirishima sighs. "Dude, I don't like you keeping this bad shit to yourself, you know? You know you tend to do that. You gotta have someone special who can pry all those dark thoughts out of you."

Hitoshi hesitates for a moment before mumbling, "Hm. Yeah, that ain't a problem, I think."

At this, the redhead raises his eyebrows. "Huh? Wait… you mean-"

He doesn't answer, but it's obvious that Kirishima won't let the issue go now. Unfortunately Shiozaki's managing the next patient who comes in and there's nothing to stop the redhead from prodding him for more details. "Dude, seriously? You and Monoma are still a thing? I thought you were just having fun?"

"Uh."

Kirishima gives him a shark-toothed grin. "Oh shit. Dude-"

Can he help it if things are going well with Neito? He didn't expect to get this far. On the surface, he's perfect for him_ \- _blonde hair, a loud mouth, and intelligent eyes, a combination of traits he finds irresistible. He's also exactly the type who can discard a guy like Shinsou without a second thought. It has happened lots of times before, enough that Shinsou probably wouldn't flinch if Neito decides to do just that.

But weeks of bracing himself for that has passed, and all that has happened is him learning more about Neito and vice versa. Their connection somehow went beyond the fact that they suffered through the same shit because of their quirk, which is astounding for Hitoshi. Even more astounding than the witty banter, the great sex, and Mackerel trusting the guy instantly.

"I am not talking about this here, man," he tells the excited redhead. They're at work after all. And maybe Hitoshi's afraid of jinxing things. Everything's new, fast, daunting. He's probably close to the point where it becomes too good to be true. He doesn't want to think about it too much.

"Sure man, sure. I'm just, wow." A thousand megawatt smile is on his face. "I've never seen you make a face like that. You got it bad, man."

He forces a scowl and pulls his mask up and turns away from Kirishima. The other guy begins a spiel about how he finally doesn't have to be the only married man in their group of friends, and just as Hitoshi is seriously considering brainwashing him to get him to shut up, Aizawa calls for his help again. With a sense of relief, Hitoshi gets back to work and doesn't stop.

As work piles up, time passes them by without him being aware of it. Kirishima finishes his shift with Hitoshi still having many patients to see. There are a few quiet moments he can dedicate to microsleep, a few moments to send a few delirious messages to Neito to assure him that he's still alive. Neito tells him that Mackerel's fine too, and that he better not skip a meal or else he'll ask Kendo to bombard him with nutribars. He wasn't able to tell him that Kendo has already shoved two of them in his mouth earlier so he doesn't need to worry.

In between power naps and answering calls, two shifts pass him by. It's Shiozaki's turn to stay the night but there are a couple of mass casualty calls that day, and Hitoshi can't leave the ER in good conscience. By the time they wrap up the cases, it's already the evening of the following day, leaving him dead on his feet. Shiozaki looks very close to tying him up in vines if it meant she can make him stop working. Obviously, in that sort of state, he is in no condition to go to Satou's, or anywhere else but home.

When he gets there and collapses onto the mess of his unrolled futon, he manages to give his boyfriend a call.

"Oh," Neito says, his voice obviously deflated even over the phone. "Well, if Ibara thinks she needs to perform the Anointing of the Sick for you, I don't think you should force yourself to come here, Hitoshi."

There's people making noise behind him-voices, clinking glasses, music. Someone tells Neito that it's his turn to drink. It would have been nice to be there when Neito inevitably gets wasted-red-faced, clingy, speaking a lot of fluent nonsense in French.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there, Nei," he says honestly. It isn't everyday he's actually sorry for not being in a crowded social event, but there you have it. "I know you were looking forward to this, so…"

The other man hums, the sound of it hollow. "Don't be silly, it's just my overrated rival for the past five years saying goodbye to everyone. I'll deal with you abandoning me by drinking myself to oblivion."

His voice is teasing, but Hitoshi is sure that he's more disappointed than he sounds. It isn't the first time they made plans that he had to cancel because of work. To his credit, Neito has tried to be understanding, but Hitoshi wonders when he'll cross the threshold, when it will all become too much for the other man.

"I'm going to make it up to you," he says, hoping that Neito isn't sick of hearing it from him yet. "In my next off, let's go somewhere you like, okay? I promise I won't complain like last time."

"Really? You won't complain if I bring us to another quote-unquote pretentious boring French film festival?"

Hitoshi stretches over the futon, eyes fluttering closed. His mouth is _so tired, _he wonders if Neito is able to understand his slurs. "... well... I won't be complaining if I'm sound asleep, aren't I?"

"You're horrible! I hate you! I should leave your uncultured ass!" Neito says in between chuckles.

Lightheaded, Hitoshi mindlessly replies, "Nah, you love me."

He may be too exhausted to know his left from his right, but the pause that follows his statement rings loud and clear. As the words slowly sink in the silence between them, Hitoshi flinches. He strongly considers following up with a _just kidding, _but his mind is too jumbled to do anything sensible.

Neito clears his throat from the other side. "You're in bed now, right Hitoshi? Get to sleep already, won't you?"

"... okay," he manages through a half-sigh.

"Okay," the other man says, voice sounding markedly different. "Goodnight."

The call ends, and Hitoshi is met by unbearable silence.

* * *

Hitoshi wakes up the next day disoriented in all ways. There's sunlight flooding the room and Mackerel is staring at the birds outside the window, so it's probably morning? Or noon, or the late afternoon. None of the cues he sees around the quiet room make sense.

He's alone again and tired out of his mind. It's a feeling he thought he can get used to without the usual loneliness accompanying it. It's just a matter of mastering the art of solitude, something he can gain through practice.

Having Neito there on occasion threw a monkey wrench on all of that. Mornings without him shouldn't feel this awful, but there you have it. There's also the added bonus of the brief exchange the night before which makes him feel more pathetic than usual. How many comfortable relationships have gone awry with the mention of _love _does it make now? Why is he always the first one to say it anyway?

It's a dark cloud hanging on his head, one that makes the freeze-dried instant coffee that Neito curses with all his being more bitter than it actually is. Hitoshi wonders if it's worth it. If Neito thinks this is worth it. It hasn't been a long time together, and it won't be the first of many disappointments.

Maybe they should quit while they're ahead.

At the first sip of bland coffee, Hitoshi clears his mind enough to make sense of his phone's screen. The things on there somehow make him change his mind.

There are a flood of messages from Neito, most likely sent when he was drunk. He sent a lot of selfies with his face flushed and his smile progressively getting more and more elated. Most of it are solo shots, but there are others with his friends-he isn't sure if Tsuburaba, Kaibara, and Awase are responsible for getting him drunker and drunker, but at least it's obvious that Rin is trying his best to keep him standing. There are also a few shots of him either hugging people or goading them into a fight, and in the only shot he has with Satou he seems to be doing an interesting mixture of both.

The captions that came with the photos makes his face crack into a stupid smile. "_ Tsubu and Awase are terrible people i should stop being friends with them" "rin is a bad father,he is awful he can never be my husband" "beautiful sen but he isnt u" "look at this little mushroom gremlin" "my orange chiffon cake is beatuful sero is banned 4ever" "yaoMOMOooo kendo amirite" "who tf is this rabid blonde bicth who isn't me" "satou sux but i'mma miss him i guess" _

_"Hitoshi, do u miss me? Wish u were here" _

He stares at Neito's last drunken selfie taken in the bathroom mirror. A gentle smile, not very manic by his standards, paired with stormy grey eyes. It's enough to send all sorts of conflicting unnamed feelings welling up in his chest.

_No, don't be ridiculous Hitoshi, _he berates himself, pushing that thought down. He forces his eyes away from the shot and opens one last message.

It's a simple one this time, just a shot of Neito taken hours later. He's home, obviously inebriated but safe in his bed. His drowsy gaze is directed right at the camera, paired with a calm upturn of the mouth.

_Tu avais raison, Hitoshi. Je ne te déteste pas du tout. _

He doesn't need Google translate for this one. The unnamed feelings assault all his senses with a vengeance, making the entire small world around him come to a halt, rose-coloured and real all at once.

_Shit. I guess he's worth it, huh, _he concludes to himself.

One hand desperately rubs his face free of the stupid grin that finds its way there. When he's sure of what to say next, he takes his phone and sends Neito his reply.

* * *

**AN: **_Tu avais raison, Hitoshi. Je ne te déteste pas du tout._ = You were right, Hitoshi. I do not hate you at all.

Happy Birthday Monoma! long live the Prince of Petty!


End file.
